How has this master’s program enhanced or altered my perceptions and approaches toward music teaching and learning?
Of all my perception altering experiences, the time I spent at the University of Oregon, I expect, will have the most significant effect on my future endeavors. Quite frankly, before this program, I had no idea what I was doing when it came to teaching music. All the hours I spent alone in a practice room honing my own musical abilities did very little to prepare me to transmit these same ideas to other individuals. At the time, however, I only imagined myself standing in front of an audience as a performer, not as a teacher. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be where I am now. Teaching music in a classroom setting was the furthest from anything I wanted to do professionally, regardless of how many of my professors told me I would make a great band teacher someday. I almost took those comments as insults to my playing abilities. Towards the end of my undergraduate program, nonetheless, I found myself working with the incoming undergraduates to develop their musicianship. Still, it was a means of enhancing my own playing experiences: the better they could play, the easier time I had as a section leader. Upon graduation, I entered the work force with grand ideas of living solely off my musical performances, but I soon realized that it would take more than merely good musicianship to make a living. I eventually ended up working non-music jobs to support my musical goals, but even then, I found myself working to develop my colleagues’ abilities to make my life easier. I was, yet again, teaching, but this time, it was not anything nearly as enjoyable as music. Slowly, I began to realize what my professors were trying to tell me: it was my abilities beyond musicianship that caused me to be a natural educator.
It was inevitable: I needed to begin teaching music if I were to support myself financially. Private lessons were the logical next step. I advertised with local middle and high schools at the start of the school year, and I even performed demonstrations at some schools. I did not necessarily expect to have students lining up around the corner to take lessons with me, but I certainly could not predict what really happened: nothing. It was about the time that I started to reconsider this path when I finally got my first inquiry right around winter break. A student wanted to join their middle school band on trombone halfway through the year, but the teacher wanted him to take private lessons to learn all that he had missed. I assumed this was an easy task, but I soon realized I was mistaken. To be clear, I started my musical journey on saxophone: put your fingers down according to the fingering chart and you have got your note. Although trombone is my primary instrument now, I had already developed my musical basics before switching to it. I was already out of my element because, unlike the saxophone’s set fingerings, the trombone requires its operator to locate a pitch using seven approximate divisions of its slide. For beginners, this can be a much more abstract concept. After a few lessons over winter break, I had my student at roughly the same level as his peers, and he was welcomed into his band class. His parents were so impressed that they wanted to continue with lessons, but I soon found another gap in my teaching ability. The class was now learning the Ab major scale, and I had to introduce the most difficult position on trombone, fifth. No matter what I tried, I could not get my student to remember to place the fourth note of the scale, Db, in fifth position. Even worse, I had no idea why he was unable to understand that he was getting it wrong. Unfortunately, my student’s band teacher also recognized this, and his parents decided that the lessons were no longer worth the cost.
While my second student was more of a success story, she wanted to get into the district honor band, she no longer wanted to take lessons once that was accomplished. Although the goals were met, looking back, I was only teaching to the test. In a modern society that emphasizes instant gratification, being able to walk away with a clear, tangible product is often how a student or teacher are measured, regardless of its lasting impact (Kelly, 2019). Because of this, too many educational models cater to meeting standardized results at the expense of a wide range of learning. Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences would argue that there is a diverse way in which people display high levels of abilities, although not all these can be assessed through identical means. In this latest teaching experience, the desired results had been attained, but did my student gain any insight, or was she simply doing as she was told without considering any purpose? While the prize of participating in the honor band was a positive outcome, it was unclear if my student attained the autonomy required for repeat success without a teacher (Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development). At the time, however, I thought maybe I had solved my problem: teaching music was easy if I could focus on slightly more advanced students, not beginners. This confidence in my ability led me to accept a position as a substitute low brass instructor at a private high school. I felt like I was becoming a better educator, and I was able to sense the students’ improvement as well. Their teacher was also pleased, as the section could better play the repertoire. Even with this minor success, I knew I needed to continue to refine my teaching methods because I was unable to see improvement in every student. I could cover all the material, but there was a lack of engagement. Was their progress due to my methods, or was it the result of some other unseen variable?
Even after these small successes, I knew I still had room for improvement; my competitive nature and desire to continually develop began to affect my actions. The same drive that kept me in practice rooms at three o’clock in the morning drove me to better my teaching abilities. Fortunately for me, almost all my undergraduate friends had already gone through this transformation. Even more fortunate, one of my best friends had recently completed his Master of Music Education program at the University of Oregon, and he recommended I follow that same path. I knew that if he could do it, I could do it. Luckily, just like my undergraduate professors, the faculty at the University of Oregon also saw my potential.
Because I started this program with no formal training for teaching music, my previous perspective was, essentially, only that of a student. Sure, my teachers had bigger plans for me than I realized, but at the time, it felt like I was only learning what I needed to successfully perform the concert repertoire. I now realize the overarching development of my musicianship and how my professors helped me progress. With much more experience on the other side of the podium, presently, I have a better understanding of how information is transmitted to a group of diverse learners. For example, when I first began writing lesson plans, I would only have the end of a lesson in mind, with perhaps some relation to a final performance; however, after designing syllabi and curriculums, I could better envision the whole learning process from start to finish. Additionally, classes about children with special needs helped me broaden my approach to include different types of learners. Without this master’s program to enlighten me, I would still be gradually expanding my educational understandings through my own trials and failures. Reflecting on the program, three main themes emerge as the keys to how I will change my approach to music education.
Of course, it can be very difficult to know what is missing from one’s own education until presented with a means against which to measure oneself (Herbart’s concept of Apperception). By adding a specialization in jazz pedagogy to my master’s degree, I was able to recognize better ways of instructing not only jazz, but all music. Few musicians would argue that music is its own language. To be fluent in a language, though, one must be able not only to communicate in the language, but they must also be able to express their own ideas. While I have never experienced it personally, one does not need to search far for stories of advanced language classes that are conducted only in that language. Here, students must communicate in real time using that language. Yes, most formally educated musicians can easily read the musical language, but the act of articulating their own ideas, especially as they arise, remains foreign. Even composing music, expressing ideas in musical terms, takes time and requires several drafts and revisions. This is where jazz pedagogy can help. Reading, writing, and reciting are important in music, but to truly be musically fluent, one must be able to improvise (Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow State). To many, this is an anxiety inducing prospect that should only be reserved for the most capable of musicians. Why else would jazz band be an exclusive ensemble, often requiring an audition before acceptance? While the standards for jazz ensembles need not be changed, the methods of teaching music to all students should be. Rather than simply performing music, our young musicians need to be challenged with creating their own music, responding to others’ music, and connecting it to the world around them (National Core Arts Standards). Just like early-childhood acquisition of language, music classes need to develop the concept of fluency as soon as possible (Pestalozzian Pedagogy & Gordon’s Music Learning Theory). Even after only one semester of beginning Spanish, all students should be, at the very least, able to visit Mexico and ask where to find the bathroom. All musicians, then, must be able to envision a clear idea and communicate it through music in real time, regardless of how simple, to not publicly embarrass themselves.
Another aspect of my own education found wanting is the ability to look to the established academic community for help. Not until graduate school did I learn a single concept about research methodology. Until this point, I was only aware of this process from science class, but now the educational application appears limitless. In science, a healthy level of skepticism is required to prevent conclusions from being reached in error; when dealing with people, this same level of skepticism must be applied to avoid developing unwanted understandings or behaviors. It can be all too easy to rely on anecdotal evidence to inform future approaches, and sometimes the outcomes can be just fine. Why, though, should any educator remain isolated in their attempts when they could just as easily look to the larger community for simple solutions? If one has an intended outcome with limited time for action, one should take a moment to determine the most effective way to do so, rather than immediately proceeding on impulse alone. The old carpentry saying “measure twice, cut once” contains a level of insight that should clearly be applied to education, especially when the wood in this metaphor is the student. As Robert Duke and James Byo (2011) would say, “correct repetitions create good habits. Incorrect repetitions create poor habits.” Doing anything habitually only adds more repetitions to experience, further cutting into one’s memory. All things learned, both good and bad or correct and incorrect, cannot be unlearned just as the wood cannot be uncut. Moreso, the student cannot be casually discarded and replaced as can the wood. Certainly, all educational approaches should be carefully measured prior to execution. This metaphor goes deeper even still as skepticism must be applied to the measurement. Yes, measure twice, but also check the validity and reliability of the measuring tool itself: Are the units marked consistently? Are the units metric or imperial? By understanding the proper way to apply research methods to one’s own educational practices, not only can the intended outcomes be reached accurately and efficiently, but the processes can rightly be added to the greater body of the educational community’s work, furthering the advancement of society.
A third theme that emerged to guide my future endeavors as an educator entails envisioning the end results of my teaching. In music, the simple answer would be better musicians, but that does nothing to indicate the degree to which students will improve. It would be like taking a road trip for the sole purpose of no longer being stationary; not going from point A to point B, but simply moving from point A. Administrators, parents, and even my future students, however, are going to want to know the purpose. As obvious as this seems, I did not recognize when my previous teachers had an educational goal in mind. I thought we were just having fun playing instruments and preparing for concerts, not realizing that [some of] my teachers truly had a desire for me to grow. Rather than picking seemingly random repertoire and then figuring out what has been learned at the end, a good educator will first decide the outcome and then work backwards (Wiggins & McTighe, 2005), determining the best piece of music to learn or problem to solve to get there. If the goal is to develop better musicians, at the very least, a good teacher can look to the National Core Arts Standards to find ways in which to make the musician better. A great teacher, on the other hand, will recognize the multiplicity of student intelligence (Gardner) and facilitate the best outcomes for each. With an intent to teach middle school band, I know that not every student will continue in formal music education; some may become very serious musicians, others may want to casually make music in their spare time, and some may never play their instruments again; but regardless, none can fully escape music as it is fixed in most societies. “Whenever and wherever humans have existed music has also existed” (Reimer, 2020). An honest look at all possible outcomes will create a path to give value to music education with each student. This is what makes music education so special: it can benefit all students in some way or another, but not without a carefully crafted destination and properly planned passageway.
As much as my time at the University of Oregon has shaped my outlook on future music teaching, I would have never guessed the dramatic difference in perspective from start to finish. Fortunately, I have had several educators who envisioned me as the musician and educator that I am today. Without their careful planning, without their vision of this version of myself, I would continue down the same path I was heading before this master’s program. Prior to this program, I was unable to see where I was guiding my own students: I may have taken them on a meaningless road trip, both measured and cut poorly, or even let them publicly embarrass themselves. Upon completion of this program, I will approach music education with a refreshed perspective, recognizing and avoiding these pedagogic pitfalls.
Daniel F. Galarneau 